Bad News Cruise

77

Bad News Cruise

By

Carol Norton

Published by OnStage Publishing

Copyright 2014

Smashwords edition

Smashwords edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author and publishing company.

THE BAD NEWS CRUISE

Chapter 1 – Day One

When our fifty-one-year-old Spanish teacher, Senorita Bentley, married the fifty-seven-year-old German teacher, Herr Wassmansdorff, members of the Springville High Spanish Club faced a sad truth. Our cruise to Mexico a month later hadn’t lost a Spanish teacher, we had gained an eyes-in-the-back-of-his-head chaperone who strongly suspected we weren’t taking the trip just to practice our Spanish.

Bummer.

The only plus was that Senora Wassmansdorff was such a mouthful to say, she let us call her Senora. In the best German teacher tradition, he insisted we call him Herr Wassmansdorff, but behind his back we usually referred to him as Herr. For those of you who haven’t taken German 1, that’s pronounced hair, which cracked us up since the guy didn’t even have enough hair around the edges for a comb-over.

With all of this weighing heavily on our minds, my best friend Deanie and I, plus eight other members of the Spanish Club, followed the newly-weds toward the last checkpoint before boarding the beautiful ship, Gulf Seas.

Look at that! Andy Moorehouse rolled his eyes toward our chaperones, holding hands in line ahead of us. "I should have dropped out of this trip when they got married. With that guy along, nothing’s going to happen. We won’t have any good stories to tell when we get home."

Talk about famous last words.

Andy heaved his backpack onto Security’s pre-boarding inspection table. Herr walked over and peered into it. The boat agent next to him followed his glance, reached inside, and pulled out an innocent-looking Sprite bottle…filled with vodka.

Well, here’s one story you can tell, Herr said. He smiled grimly as the agent tossed the bottle into a bin brimming with confiscated liquor. Andy, I’ll speak to you about this later.

Robb, Billy and Howard stood to one side, laughing. Andy laughed right back at them, and Deanie and I knew exactly why.

Deanie elbowed me. Wish I could be around when Andy untapes the flask he has on his hairy leg. R-r-r-r-ip! She grinned.

Mmmhmm, I said, watching Andy click his heels and snap into a military salute behind Herr’s back. But it would be enough for me to see Herr catch him with it. I could sell tickets to that.

Ahead of me my older-by-one-year sister, Angela, shook her head and muttered, I sure hope our guys aren’t the best this cruise has to offer.

Seriously? You’d think Angela wouldn’t care about other guys. Her boyfriend Ross could have gone fishing, but instead the poor guy had driven us all the way from Springville, Georgia to the New Orleans docks, just so he could spend a few more hours holding Angela’s hand.

True, he was leaving for Army Reserve training in a few weeks, but Deanie and I would have preferred to have our boyfriends, her Jack or my Eddie, drive us down.

Ever the drama queen, Angela stepped onto the gangplank, turned, and blew Ross a kiss.

His shoulders drooped. I miss you already, Angel, he called up to us. He looked like a puppy being abandoned at the pound.

I tried not to gag. We were going to be back in five days.

Bye, Sweetie, Angela wiggled her fingers in his direction one last time, then stepped onto the gangplank of the Gulf Seas.

Wow!

Above us a gleaming red smokestack with outstretched wings towered over sleek, white layers of decks and balconies and orange-tarped lifeboats.

At first, Angela stopped and stared at the ship like the rest of our group. Ten steps later her eyes locked onto a pair of broad shoulders ahead of us, and her body tensed like a bird dog on point.

The guy with the shoulders clutched a sleek briefcase against his chest and leaned back to stare up at the ship. After a while he turned and scanned the passenger line. His gaze skimmed past us, then returned to Angela.

She drew her breath in sharply. He’s right off a romance novel cover, she murmured.

Yup. He was tall with dark hair just like hers, and he was really good looking, in a sophisticated whatever sort of way. She flashed him a smile. He nodded slightly and turned his eyes back to the ship.

Forget it, I whispered. With that briefcase, he looks past-college-age. And what about good old Ross?

Izzy, she hissed, simultaneously delivering a sharp kick to my ankle, what happens on this cruise, stays on this cruise.

Talk about clichés!

Deanie rolled her eyes and hitched her backpack from one shoulder to the other. Good ol’ Angela, she said. Out of sight, out of mind.

Angela edged toward Senora, who just happened to be standing near the broad-shouldered hunk at the head of the line. As she passed him, she let her boarding papers flutter to the floor.

Oh dear, she said. The guy smiled at her briefly and stepped back to let her pick up the papers herself.

Angela’s smile faded quickly as Herr stooped to help her.

Poor Angela, I said.

Poor Ross. I think-- Deanie’s eyebrows shot up. She clutched at my arm. Did you hear that?

Hear wh--

Shhhhhhhh! Listen. She dragged me to the gangplank railing and scanned the side of the ship, starting with the nearest balcony and moving back.

Ohmygod! Look! She pointed halfway down the luxury stateroom balconies. Do you see that?

Drenched in sunshine, a slim, blonde girl sat with arms upraised, holding a flute to her lips. She had propped her bare feet against the railing, and her silver toe rings sparkled as she tapped in time to music I couldn’t quite hear.

Robb Macy and Andy Moorehouse peered over our shoulders.

What’s up?

SSSHHHHHHHHH! QUIET! Deanie shouted. The boys jerked back. People near us hushed instantly. Herr frowned, but then we all heard it.

The mellow notes of a flute floated toward us so softly I felt I could almost breathe them in. From years of listening to Deanie play in school concerts, I could tell that the girl was really, really good.

Hey! Deanie yelled. The girl’s face tilted toward the gangplank, but she continued playing.

Deanie waved her arms over her head. Hey...Over here!

Deanie! Herr called. He and Senora pushed through the crowd toward us.

Deanie dropped her backpack to the gangplank floor. She rummaged through it, pulled out her flute, and pushed back to the railing, waving it above her head.

What in the world is Deanie doing? Senora asked, trying unsuccessfully to grab Deanie’s arm.

I nodded toward the ship. That girl over there on the ritzy balcony plays the flute, too.

The crowd behind us jostled toward the railing to see what the big attraction was. Their noise drowned out the music even more than before.

Hush! Deanie pleaded.

Stop, Deanie, demanded Senora, you’re making a scene.

The blonde girl looked in our direction.

Deanie pointed to herself. Dean--ie, she yelled. She tapped the flute against her chest with each syllable. Dean--ie.

The girl glanced into her stateroom then lowered her flute, holding her hand to her ear and shaking her head. She mouthed something slowly and pointed to herself.

"Looks like she’s saying Sofie," I said.

Senora’s hand paused in mid-reach. "Sofie? Are you sure?" Senora nudged Andy and Billy to one side and pushed her sunglasses up on her forehead to peer at the girl with the flute.

An older woman had joined the girl on the balcony. Gently, she lifted the flute from the girl’s hands, then turned to scan the gangplank. Senora drew in a sharp breath. She looked from the woman to the girl and back again. No, it couldn’t be…

I stared at the woman on the balcony too. Her long, chiseled-from-granite nose split the look of disapproval travelling across her face. There was something familiar about the woman’s face, but I didn’t know her, and for sure she didn’t look like anyone I wanted to know.

The woman slipped her arm around the girl’s waist and pulled her from the chair. The girl glanced back at us but allowed herself to be led into their cabin. The door slid shut behind them.

Weird, I said.

Disappointment swept Deanie’s face. I just wanted to talk flutes with her, she said. "She’s the best I’ve ever heard in person. I’ve got to meet her."

Senora stared at the empty balcony as if she was trying to reconstruct the scene. Perhaps you will, she said. But they clearly don’t want to meet anyone right now.

The line jostled past us up the gangplank, but Senora couldn’t take her eyes off the balcony.

Deanie, she said slowly, could you tell what Sofie said her last name was?

Deanie shook her head.

Senora slid her sunglasses back on her nose. Perhaps the Guest Services desk will be able to tell us.

We merged back into the line and followed Senora as she disappeared from the bright sunlight into the ship.

Ohmygod! Talk about a wow factor! The ship’s atrium soared to a glittering glass ceiling. Even Angela stopped flirting to stare up at the five stories of colorful boutiques, lounges, and game rooms that circled above us.

Students! Here! called Herr Wassmansdorff.

Andy rolled his eyes. Our master’s voice, he muttered.

We wove through crowds of excited passengers and waiters offering us frosted pastel drinks with tiny paper fans. Herr took a quick headcount before he handed out our room keycards.

Student cabins were on the same deck as Herr and Senora’s, but the newly-wed chaperones had a cabin with a small balcony on the outside wall of the ship. Our cabins were on an interior wall.

Herr cleared his throat for attention. I have assigned Andy Moorehouse and Billy Wheeler at one end of the corridor in the cabin next to Howard Adams and Robb Macy. At the other end of the corridor, I have placed Angela Higgins with Patti Alt, next to Karen Cleveland with Lacie Pruitt, next to Deanie Ponder with Izzy Higgins. My wife and I will be in the center of the corridor, halfway between the two groups.

Deanie raised her eyebrows at me and grinned. Herr thought placing us at opposite ends of the corridor would discourage unauthorized post-curfew socializing between